


The Weights We Carry

by murpl



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Birthmarks, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, Soulmate AU, fake birthday candle burn, kind of, like if they had the option someone might die, these boys hate each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 12:22:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14520474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murpl/pseuds/murpl
Summary: Hanzo Shimada like everyone else, was born with a soulmate. It's a shame that they both hate each other.





	The Weights We Carry

**Author's Note:**

> I needed a soulmate au, I wrote a soulmate au. I needed sleep, I wrote a soulmate au. I needed to finish homework, I wrote a soulmate au.

It was as if they had placed the mirror in his new room as a cruel joke. Meticulously arranged, in a slight upwards angle, tipped just enough for him to see his reflection from all angles of the room. 

If he was being honest with himself, his face was just that. A joke. It truly was. A carefully structured thing. Sharp jawline giving him an air of masculinity, high cheekbones allowing an image of power. He was handsome, sure, but then there was his mark.

Burnt into his skin, tainting it’s naturally smooth pigmentation. The black knuckles of his supposed soulmate.

He could remember being told as a child that soulmates were a waste of his skill, that they did not matter, that they would simply weigh him down when the time came. Of course, he believed the words of his elders, as did the rest of his family, but that didn’t keep them from throwing him looks of pure disgust as he grew older. What was thought to be the knuckles of a rather large woman quickly revealing themselves as the knuckles of an even larger man.

At times he would attempt to reason with the looks. Because it was irrelevant what gender he would end up favoring if he was to stay alone.

But when he spoke for himself it was seen as rebellion. And rebellion was not what result the elders had desired to come from him.

Hanzo shook his head as he moved the mirror from its place on his dresser. He should not be spending his time thinking of his looks when he clearly had work in need of execution. He was dedicating his life to Overwatch, he needed to stay focused on its goals. Not his own.

But… his soulmate. He could not avoid the reaches of destiny could he?

The thoughts shook him from his focus. His soulmate. With the knuckles on his face… what if they were in an opposing organization? What if they were to fight in the midst of war? 

Hanzo glanced down at his wrist, lifting a watch from its place to uncover a series of tattooed words. You son of a bitch. Was that something you would say during a fight? How would he have provoked the other man to have thrown the first punch? Or did he go for a strike first, hitting clothing instead of bare skin?

Hanzo’s thoughts slowly led him back to the topic of Overwatch. Right.

It would not matter.


End file.
